


Old Friends

by elenathesimp



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Betrayal, Dream George and Sapnap are bros who live together, Jschlatt is a jerk, L'Manberg and Dream SMP are kind of allies, Manipulation, Platonic friendships, Poor Dream, Poor George, Protective Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Schlatt and Wilbur are old friends, Villain Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenathesimp/pseuds/elenathesimp
Summary: Schlatt had the audacity to look innocent. “I haven’t done anything,” he said coolly, disentangling his lapel from Dream’s grip and pushing the blade away. “But that doesn’t mean that I won’t. Permanently let me into your kingdom, and George will be perfectly fine. Otherwise I’ll kill him and Sapnap and everyone else you love.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 30
Kudos: 204





	1. deal

The dark water was striped with bright strips of white, reflecting the pale moon overhead. Crickets chirped loudly. They split the silence and added to the white noise of the forest around them. One of the tiny insects was perched on a smooth rock by the edge of the lake, shuffling around every few seconds and letting out another chirp. Its eyes stared, disinterested, at nothing in particular. 

A twig snapped. The cricket scurried away across the rock before a shadow fell over it and its chirps were cut short with a soft, wet _crunch_. The feet continued onward, thumping heavily against the firm damp dirt at the edge of the water. Their owner, a tall figure swathed in a green cloak, paused at the shore and crouched to dip a finger into the water. He swirled it idly, watching as dirt clouded the water. 

The man’s face was completely hidden. His mask was unconventional to say the least, solid white porcelain with a black smiley face painted on the front. The childish design was countered, however, by the large netherite axe that was strapped to the man’s back, and the heavy black armor he wore. This man was not here for a casual stroll through the woods. 

“What are you doing here?” demanded an obnoxiously loud voice from the trees, and the man turned, his axe now in his hands. “Schlatt,” he acknowledged, barely succeeding at keeping the disdain from his voice.

The newcomer was clad in a dark, expensive-looking business suit, his shirt untucked and his tie hanging loosely from his neck. He held a cigar loosely between two fingers, and he stank horribly from the smoke. 

“This is my world. Don’t test me,” spoke the green-and-black-clad man. “I should be asking you that question.”

“Calm yourself, _Dreamy-poo_ ,” Schlatt drawled. He stepped into the other man’s personal space and slapped him heartily on the back. “Loosen up a little.”

“Touch me again and you’ll lose a limb.” Dream spoke calmly, but his annoyance was growing by the second. 

Schlatt cackled, taking a small step backward. Dream still caught a whiff of the man’s breath, however, and had to keep himself from gagging. Pathetic.

“What do you want, Schlatt?” he asked, straightening his back and putting his axe away. The man wasn’t a threat, unless you counted the noxious cigar fumes as a deadly weapon. “Why did you want to speak with me?”

“Just a business proposition,” Schlatt replied, seeming to grow a bit more serious. “I heard you’ve been having some trouble with an old friend of mine.” 

“Friend?” Dream asked dubiously. 

Schlatt sighed, and Dream wasn’t certain but he could’ve sworn he detected something like admiration in the man’s eyes. “Wilbur Soot,” Schlatt elaborated, the name rolling off his tongue like that of an old friend- or an old enemy. 

“Oh,” Dream answered, not really sure how to respond. “Not any real trouble nowadays. Unless you count the drug ring…or Tommy.”

Schlatt rolled his eyes. “You can’t tell me that your pride doesn’t still hurt after being defeated by a ragtag bunch of European _children_.”

Dream bristled. “They fought well. They earned their independence.” It was true. Tommy had come to him, offering the one thing he cared about most to gain L’Manberg’s freedom. It was at that moment that Dream had realized he was in the wrong. He had looked out over L’Manberg’s smoking landscape and the damaged walls, and had felt true guilt for the first time. Would it really have hurt him to give them their land? He supposed if he were being totally honest with himself, his injured pride had been his only motivation for the war. The only thing he regretted now was his lost opportunity to be friendly with the new nation. They were casual allies now, and nothing more. 

“Hooo boy,” Schlatt said with a sigh. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Dream narrowed his eyes at the man, hating him more by the second. “What do you mean?”

“You have no idea, do you?” Schlatt asked seriously. 

“No idea about what?”

“They’re plotting to conquer your empire,” Schlatt whispered confidentially. “Wilbur and Tommy and Tubbo and Fundy and Nikki.”

“You’re lying,” Dream replied calmly. “I don’t have time for this.” He stepped around Schlatt and began walking away up the shore. 

Schlatt started to laugh, a disgusting, drunken cackle that sent chills up Dream’s spine. The man wasn’t even drunk, there was no scent of alcohol on him. He had to be crazy. For the first time, Dream felt uneasy, but he kept walking. 

“Oh _Dreeeeaaam_!” Schlatt called. Dream stopped and turned to glare at the man. “That’s what George says, isn’t it? When’s the last time you saw good ol’ Gogy?”

Dream felt his heart skip a beat. _No way he’s telling the truth. He’s got to be bluffing._ “What are you talking about?”  
Schlatt gave him a knowing look. “You think I’m joking, don’t you?” he asked. “That’s cute.”

Dream’s axe was in his hands again, and before Schlatt could say another word he had seized the man’s lapel. He brought the blade of his weapon up to Schlatt’s throat. “What have you done?”

Schlatt had the audacity to look innocent. “I haven’t done anything,” he said coolly, disentangling his lapel from Dream’s grip and pushing the blade away. “But that doesn’t mean that I won’t. Permanently let me into your kingdom, and George will be perfectly fine. Otherwise I’ll kill him and Sapnap and _everyone else you love._ ” 

“You don’t have the power to do that,” Dream spat, hiding his fear. 

“I’m more powerful than you think,” Schlatt replied. “I have eyes everywhere. Money can buy a lot of things.”

And Dream understood. The man himself might be pathetic, but he was more dangerous than Dream had predicted. 

“So whatcha think?” Schlatt prodded. 

Dream stepped back and lowered his gaze. “You just want me to admit you to the SMP?”

Schlatt grinned. “Well, now that you mention it…”

\---

Within the huge black and yellow walls of L’Manberg, music played loudly, mixing with the sounds of a crowd making merry. Along a long, dark oak banquet table were platters of food, and sat on the long benches were dozens of L’Manberg residents. The people of the young nation were celebrating, finally able to forget the bloody war that had brought them here. 

The reason for their celebration sat at the head of the table, in a simple wooden chair. He was clad in his L’Manberg uniform, newly cleaned and ironed. His messy curls stuck out in all directions as he threw his head back in laughter at something someone had said to him. Wilbur Soot, general and acting president of L’Manberg, was celebrating his twenty-fourth birthday. He hadn’t planned this celebration- in fact, he had been planning on spending the evening in the temporary Capitol building with Niki, Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy. Niki, however, had been planning this party for some time, and she and Fundy had coordinated surprisingly well to arrange the event. They had invited all the residents of the young nation, which, though it had grown quickly, was still small enough to fit into the banquet hall that Tommy and Tubbo had built. 

Wilbur stood, excusing himself from the conversation by going to get a drink. He stepped over to the punch bowl, and wiped his brow with a sleeve, taking a deep breath. He appreciated the party, he really did. But the sounds and smells and sights were a bit too much sometimes. He poured a generous amount of punch (non-alcoholic for Tommy’s and Tubbo’s sake) and leaned against the wall. He looked fondly at his people, at this little nation that they had built. How he loved them. Not purely for the power and glory of being independent, but because L’Manberg had given him a sense of purpose and belonging that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Wilbur?” asked a voice, and Wilbur opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them in the first place. He looked around for the source of the voice, and his eyes landed on a man, clad in a spotless business suit and holding a glass of wine. 

Wilbur blinked, not believing his eyes. “Schlatt?” he asked, dumbfounded. “What are you doing here?”

“Dream’s letting people into the server left and right!” the other man exclaimed loudly, and slapped Wilbur heartily on the back. “I got whitelisted and heard you’d staged a revolution. So I come to take a look-see and find out you’re running a country?”

Wilbur laughed modestly. “I really didn’t do much. It was these people.” He nodded at the partygoers. 

Schlatt laughed. “Oh, give yourself some credit. I heard about all the crap you did, all the battles and the treachery…” he pause, seeming to realize that the word provoked some bad memories. “Sorry, dude.”

Wilbur forced a smile. “It’s fine. It’s been so long, Schlatt! What happened? I haven’t seen you since the TNT adventure.” 

Schlatt nodded. “I’ve been drifting from server to server. I’ve learned a lot, for sure. Spending time in the wilderness alone tends to do that.” 

Wilbur thought the phrasing of the sentence was a bit odd, Schlatt sounded almost… bitter? Hurt? He wasn’t sure why. Schlatt hadn’t made any attempt to keep contact. “Good things?” he asked, hoping the answer would be yes. 

Schlatt nodded. “I think so. Anyways, I was wondering- now I’m here, do you have room for one more here? I’m not a Brit but it’s not like I know anybody anywhere else.”

Wilbur shrugged. “Fine with me.” He eyed his old friend and grinned. “It’s good to see you again.”


	2. invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months later, Dream takes a trip to visit his allies in L'Manberg.

Dream stood on the back porch of his house, looking over his server. His house was built on a hill overlooking the Dream SMP, and he often came to appreciate its beauty.  
It had been three months since Schlatt had confronted him in the forest. He shuddered a bit as he recalled that night. Schlatt had bid him farewell, disappearing into the forest as quickly as he had appeared. Dream had rushed home, bursting into the house that he shared with George and Sapnap. The two of them had been playing cards, and both looked alarmed when Dream burst in. He had taken one look at them and nearly collapsed from pure relief. They were okay. 

Since then he had kept a close eye on them, insisting that he accompany them on their hunts. They were suspicious, but he refused to share what had happened for fear that Schlatt would find out somehow. But nothing had happened. He hadn’t even heard from Schlatt since he had granted him access to the server, and part of him wondered if he was just being paranoid. He didn’t think so- Schlatt had a dangerous, slightly insane aura about him that convinced Dream he meant business. 

Dream suddenly remembered that he had work to attend to, and sighed. To the capitol we go. They had built a small administrative building, as order had become increasingly necessary as the server grew. Dream found that his responsibilities had increased daily, and that the burdens of leadership continued to grow. 

Today, he planned to go to L’Manberg to extend an invitation to Wilbur. The Dream SMP was preparing for a festival and Dream was planning on inviting his former rivals. They weren’t hosting the festival for any particular reason; George and Sapnap were honestly just a little bored and wanted something to break the monotony.

Speaking of relations with L’Manberg, things had been quite friendly recently. Dream had offered to aid in the cleanup after the war, and during the cleanup process he had gotten to know Wilbur a little. Though Dream had known it already, Wilbur really wasn’t a dangerous radical. He was just a man- the same age as Dream himself- who had dreams he wanted to chase. He had been willing to do anything to ensure L’Manberg’s freedom, and he had nearly sacrificed his life multiple times. 

Dream confessed to Wilbur his reasons for declaring war, and that he was working on his pride problem. Surprisingly, Wilbur had been understanding. Dream supposed that was because they were so much alike. It was astounding. Dream desperately wanted to claim friendship with the other leader, but he was still mindful of the atrocities he and his men had committed. He had blown up the entire nation. Murdered Tommy during their duel. 

Convinced Eret to betray them.

However, things were looking up. Eret had long since reconciled with the people of L’Manberg, and in the six months since the war had ended he had separated himself from both the Dream SMP and L’Manberg. Dream and Wilbur had both offered space within their borders, but he had simply smiled, declined, and explained that “I need to get to know myself a little better first.” Dream understood that. Maybe he should try it himself.  
If that didn’t mean letting George and Sapnap out of his sight. 

Dream shook himself out of his reverie. He turned and walked inside, noticing George sitting on the couch in the living room they shared with Sapnap, a book in his hand. 

George glanced up at Dream as he entered the room and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have somewhere to be today?” he asked.

Dream nodded. “Yeah. Just gotta eat breakfast real quick.”

Sapnap was cooking breakfast, Dream guessed based on the smell coming from the kitchen. Hands shaking a little from nervousness over his upcoming trip, Dream accepted a plate of bacon and eggs and plopped down on the couch. He scarfed down the food rapidly, slipping bites of food under the mask. When he was finished he ordered George to wash the dishes (to which he received a few muttered insults) and retreated to his room. 

Dream couldn’t help but shudder as he eyed the suit he had laid out on his bed. It evoked unpleasant memories, of cigar-scented breath assaulting his nostrils as Schlatt spat threats. He couldn’t understand why he was so affected by the encounter. Schlatt hadn’t laid a hand on him. He hadn’t even threatened to. Knowing Schlatt, he could have easily resorted to far worse measures to get what he wanted. 

Maybe he was scared by the fact that for once in his life, he wasn’t in control of the situation. Schlatt had known exactly which buttons to press. Targeting his friends had been a smarter move than Dream had expected.

“Might as well get it over with,” Dream sighed, and started to change into the suit. The tie was tight, he thought idly, and the jacket was a bit too thick and heavy for his liking. 

“Dream!” Sapnap called, and Dream straightened his back. He eyed himself in the mirror and picked up his mask, studying it for a moment before strapping it firmly to his head.  
He stepped outside the room and was greeted by Sapnap, who held out the festival invitation. 

“Thanks,” Dream muttered, and tugged at the tie. 

Sapnap rolled his eyes. “Dude, how long have you been in charge here? I know for a fact you’re used to a tie.”

Dream chuckled faintly. “I don’t know. Guess I’m kind of anxious this time.”

“Don’t be,” George called from the couch. 

Dream rolled his eyes. “Thanks a lot. That’s helpful.” He forced a smile though his friends couldn’t see it, and tucked the invitation into his pocket. “Alright. I’m out.”

\--

Tubbo sat atop the huge black and yellow walls, gazing out eagerly over the trees surrounding L’Manberg. A bumblebee buzzed lazily by and he watched it closely, giggling as it landed on his leg. 

“Tubbo!” a voice called, and he jumped, looking down over the wall. 

“Hello, Dream,” he yelled down to the man. “What brings you here?”

“You’ll see,” Dream answered, and Tubbo hurried to descend the ladder and let the SMP’s ruler inside L’Manberg’s walls.

Tubbo remembered the war and the bloodshed that had come of it. However, he also remembered how desperately Dream had tried to bridge the gap between the two nations. Dream had gotten his hands dirty and helped mend the walls, and he had worked side-by-side with Tubbo and Tommy to do so. 

At this point, Tubbo didn’t doubt his former leader’s integrity. Dream had even saved his life once, stepping between him and a skeleton once during the construction process. Dream had taken an arrow to the hip, but he said later that it was headed for Tubbo’s heart. Subsequently, he had even fought off the skeleton, killing it swiftly and not acknowledging the wound until he had escorted Tubbo safely indoors. Tubbo had panicked, not really knowing how to take care of the wound. Dream only soothed him and started giving orders, sending the boy for bandages and water. 

In retrospect, Tubbo felt guilty for not being able to compose himself in that moment. So as soon as Dream was healed, he shyly asked the masked man if he would be willing to teach him a few things about first aid/basic medicine. Dream had obliged, and now Tubbo was fairly confident that he could avoid a repeat of the situation. 

Tubbo pulled a lever and an opening appeared in the wall, allowing Dream inside. He led Dream to the capitol building, a simple stone brick structure but one that he and Tommy both were quite proud of. 

“Dream’s here!” Tubbo called as he stepped inside. 

Wilbur’s voice echoed down the hallway. “I’m in the office.”

Tubbo pointed the way, following Dream closely as the man strode into Wilbur’s office.  
Wilbur stood with a smile, extending a hand and shaking Dream’s warmly. “Dream,” he greeted. “What brings you here?” 

Dream withdrew an envelope from his pocket. “We’re having a festival. No particular occasion, the guys are just bored. Figured you might like to join us.”

Wilbur took the envelope, opened it and scanned the invitation. “We’ll be there,” he answered. “I’ll tell the people this afternoon.” He sat and gestured to a chair across the desk. Feel free to have a seat. How are you?” 

Tubbo watched the encounter from his spot by the door. He loved that the two men got along so well. It was a welcome change, that was certain. 

A hand fell heavily on Tubbo’s shoulder and he jumped, letting out a yelp of surprise before realizing who was there. Dream and Wilbur turned his direction, curious, but when Dream laid eyes on the newcomer the blood drained from his face. Tubbo looked back and forth between Dream and Schlatt curiously, before noticing that Dream’s expression had changed to one of casual interest. 

Wilbur beckoned to Schlatt with a pleased smile. “Jonathan Schlatt, meet Dream. Dream, Schlatt.” 

Schlatt extended a hand. “Finally! Been waiting to meet you for a while.” Dream accepted the offer of a handshake and nodded. “Pleased to meet you.” 

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah. jonathan schlatt is still a creepy weirdo.


	3. fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt proves a point.

Dream’s palms were sweaty. What was Schlatt doing here? After all this time, he decided to show himself again? The man had cleaned himself up, and his ever-present suit was impeccable. There was no cigar in sight but Dream could faintly smell the smoke. 

“Schlatt’s an old friend of mine,” Wilbur explained, wrapping an arm around Schlatt’s shoulders in a brotherly gesture. Schlatt’s eye twitched ever so slightly and Dream smiled under his mask. “He came here about three months ago- now he’s climbing the ranks. If I didn’t know better, I’d worry he’s trying to usurp my power.” Wilbur chuckled 

Dream laughed lightly and tugged at his collar a little. Wilbur noticed his discomfort. “You alright?” He inquired. “Your hands are shaking.” Dream nodded, sighing heavily. “I’m fine. Didn’t get quite enough sleep last night I suppose.”

Wilbur frowned. “Out hunting?”

“You know me!” Dream replied. “I was wondering- can I see the rest of L’Manberg? I know you’ve been renovating.”

“Of course,” Wilbur answered. “Come along. Tubbo, would you mind checking with Fundy about the medical supplies?”

Tubbo nodded and scurried off, leaving Wilbur, Schlatt and Dream alone. Wilbur led them outside, down a wooden path. There were rows of houses across the water, and Dream noticed a few people strolling about. 

“This is our great hall,” Wilbur said, gesturing to the large wooden building they were standing in front of. “Tubbo and Tommy built it several months ago.” The inside of the building was simple but lovely, the subtle details of the build making the hall feel grander than it was. Dream could smell food being cooked, perhaps for the noon meal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Dream praised. “They did well.”

The next building, standing in the shadow of the capitol, was a small, modest house that was probably Wilbur’s, Dream guessed. The president confirmed his suspicions and they continued on. There was a stone fence surrounding a patch of plowed dirt- Dream vaguely recalled Tommy mentioning it previously but he had no idea why it was important. 

“If it isn’t the green boy himself!” called a loud voice, and Dream groaned. “Hello, Tommy.”

Tommy’s expression was one of bored displeasure. His uniform jacket was unbuttoned and hung loosely around his shoulders, and underneath it he wore his trademark red-and-white t-shirt. Wilbur eyed the jacket, seeming a little annoyed, but he said nothing.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy asked, and Wilbur rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “Tommy please…” he murmured.

“The SMP is having a festival and I came to give Wilbur an invitation,” Dream replied, noticing the excited glint in Tommy’s eyes. “Oh, and Sapnap said to give you this.” He ruffled Tommy’s hair and passed him a note. Tommy’s eyes darkened and Dream wondered briefly if the boy would start raging. He hated that Dream was taller than him, and Dream made sure to rub this in the kid’s face every chance he got. 

Tommy unfolded the paper and scanned it. Dream eyed it over the boy’s shoulder and held back a laugh. There was one word written there- “child.” 

“ _I’m gonna start stabbing!_ " Tommy bellowed as he crumpled the paper. “I’m not a child, I’m a—” He was cut off by a look from Wilbur. 

“Hunt down Sapnap on your own time, Tommy,” Wilbur ordered. “How’s progress on the campaign?”

“Posters are being printed as we speak,” Tommy replied, eyes brightening. Dream hummed inquiringly and Tommy grinned confidentially. “We’re holding an election,” he shared and Dream raised an eyebrow behind the mask. “Oh?”

Wilbur nodded. “I figure it’s time the people get to choose their leader. I’ll open the ballot tomorrow and anyone can choose to run. We’ll campaign for a month before voting starts.”

“The thing is,” Tommy interrupted, “We’re the only ones running!”

Dream snorted. “Seems a bit pointless.”

Wilbur shrugged. “I want them to feel like they’ve chosen me. I know I said this wasn’t a democracy, but I feel like it should be. And besides, anyone can run if they like. I won’t stop them.”

“Interesting,” Dream replied. “You could be giving up your position.”

“I didn’t earn it,” Wilbur insisted. “If they want me in charge, they can put me there themselves. This isn’t a dictatorship.”

“Fair enough.” Dream personally knew that if he did such a thing in his land all would go to hell. The political structure of his domain most closely resembled a monarchy, but he refused to use the title “king.” He wasn’t a dictator either, but he definitely had absolute power. He wasn’t sure if Wilbur realized how risky this was, but he wouldn’t interfere. 

Tommy seemed to remember something. “Wilbur, Fundy’s asking for you. And me. I dunno what he wants, but he mentioned politics and I stopped listening.”

Wilbur sighed and glanced at Dream. “Excuse me for a moment. Schlatt, would you mind continuing the tour?”

Dream was thankful for the mask covering his face as he bit his lip until it bled. Schlatt agreed and Wilbur walked away after Tommy, leaving the two alone. Dream chose to ignore the man behind him as long as possible, walking along the wooden path. Until he felt Schlatt’s hand clamp firmly down on his shoulder. “What do you want?” he demanded. 

Schlatt didn’t reply, giving Dream a push in the direction they had come. Indignation flared up, and Dream’s netherite sword was in his hand in an instant. “Don’t touch me.” 

Schlatt raised an eyebrow. “Threatening a L’Manberg citizen? Bold. I would’ve thought you’d want to preserve this little friendship.” 

He was right, Dream knew, as he put the sword away. Oddly enough, now that he was alone with Schlatt he wasn’t as concerned as he probably should be. Schlatt hadn’t even attempted to hurt George and Sap yet, and he hadn’t shown his face in the Dream SMP in quite a while. Dream was beginning to wonder if Schlatt had any real power at all.

Dream straightened his back and glared down at Schlatt. The man wasn’t much shorter than himself, but Dream was grateful for the extra height. “Why are you here?” he demanded.

Schlatt pulled out a cigar and lit it, taking a breath and blowing smoke into Dream’s face. “Just hanging out.”

Dream scowled. “You’re lying. I don’t have time for this.” He turned and started to walk away. 

“You don’t think I mean business, do you?” Schlatt called. “Fine. In thirty seconds, Tubbo is going to be shot with an arrow.” Dream opened his mouth, ready to call Schlatt’s bluff, but the businessman raised a hand. “Twenty seconds after that, by my calculations, Tommy and Wilbur will find him. Exactly…” he eyed his watch, “two minutes from now, someone will come find us.” 

Dream clenched his fists. “You’re ly—”

“I’m not lying,” Schlatt snapped. “You think I don’t have power? Wait and see, Dream.” His watch beeped and he grinned at Dream. “There it is.” 

Dream’s blood boiled as he glared at the man in front of him. How dare Schlatt play games like this. He couldn’t possibly control something like this as precisely as he claimed. 

“We’re going back to the Capitol building,” Schlatt ordered, any humor gone from his voice. “Say a word and Tubbo won’t live next time.”  
\--

Tubbo had seen the man at the last second. He had been minding his own business, walking back towards the capitol and whistling softly. A flash of motion out of the corner of his eye alerted him, and he turned. He hadn’t been able to distinguish his attacker’s identity, but he had caught the slightest glimpse of a beanie as the man drew his bow and fired straight at Tubbo. It was ironic, Tubbo thought as he fell, that the arrow struck him in the hip, exactly where Dream had been wounded so long ago. He supposed this had been coming. His vision went blurry with tears of pain, and he thought he might have screamed. The pounding in his skull was so overwhelming that he wasn’t sure though. 

He heard voices-speaking somewhat softly before someone let out a shout of horror and he heard footsteps pounding along the wooden path towards him. Tubbo wished they would be a bit quieter about it. He wondered vaguely if he was going to die. 

“Tubbo!” cried a familiar voice, as arms cradled his head. 

_Tommy. Tommy’s here._

“Tommy,” he croaked, voice hoarse for some reason. 

Wilbur’s face appeared above him, a grim expression on the president’s face. “Hang on, Tubbo. You’re gonna be fine.”

Tubbo wasn’t so sure about that. 

\--

Wilbur scooped Tubbo up into his arms, forcing himself to ignore the boy’s cry of pain. “Tommy, get Fundy,” he ordered, and set out towards his house. His adoptive son was their unofficial medic, and Wilbur knew they would need his help. 

The boy in his arms had passed out, he concluded as Tubbo was silent now. Wilbur looked at the arrow jutting out of Tubbo’s hip and swallowed back his anger. _Whoever did this_ …he bit his lip. Better not to think too much about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahaha sorrryyyyy


	4. blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo is going to be okay, but Tommy might not. Dream wants answers.

Dream felt the blood drain from his face when Tommy shared the news. “Can I see him?” he asked hesitantly. Tommy nodded without a word, starting to turn and lead them away.

Dream kicked himself. He should have noticed the tears welling up in Tommy’s eyes, and the tremor in his voice. Tubbo was his best friend, after all. “Hey,” Dream murmured, reaching out to place a hesitant hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Tommy was obviously trying his best to keep his composure-Dream respected that- but the comforting words came very close to breaking his resolve. He hunched his shoulders and cleared his throat before giving Dream a grateful look and turning away. Dream followed, intensely aware of Schlatt hovering behind him. He placed himself intentionally between Schlatt and Tommy, and looked back at Schlatt with a glare. Schlatt only smirked.

Dream’s stomach turned as he smelled the stench of blood. “Oh my…” he murmured, unprepared for the scene before him. Tubbo looked truly awful. Wilbur had laid him down on the first surface he could find-his dining room table, and Fundy was bent over the boy, sleeves rolled up as he examined the wound. Tubbo was unconscious, probably having passed out from the pain. The wound wasn’t life-threatening, not if they cared for it immediately, but that didn’t make it any less severe.

Fundy looked up at Dream. “Can you give me a hand?” he asked. Dream nodded and unbuttoned his jacket. He dropped it on a chair, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows- as pointless as that would be.

—

Twenty long minutes later, they were finished and Tubbo stirred every now and then as though he might wake. Dream tried not to look at the blood on his clothing, imagining the questions he would be assailed with when he returned home. At Wilbur’s command he lifted Tubbo into his arms and carried him to one of the bedrooms, setting him gently down. Fundy agreed to stay behind and keep an eye on the boy.

Dream trudged back to the dining room and did his best to ignore the piercing look Schlatt gave him. Schlatt was perched on a stool, nursing a drink of some kind- probably alcoholic.

Tommy was sitting on Wilbur’s sofa, staring off into space with a mug of something in his hands. Dream ruffled the boy’s hair gently, some instinct within telling him Tommy wouldn’t mind as much this time. Tommy only shifted a little on the sofa, and Dream faltered. He wanted to comfort Tommy, to tell him everything would be okay. But he held back, knowing that Tommy could well be the next target if Dream showed too much affection. Schlatt was watching, so he had to be careful.

Dream sat at the dining table, noticing tiredly that Schlatt or Tommy had wiped it down and there was no longer any trace of blood. Wilbur sank into the chair across from him, carding his fingers agitatedly through his hair. No one spoke. The silence was not uncomfortable, but it was saturated with unease.

“Who did this?” Wilbur wondered aloud.

_Schlatt,_ Dream wanted to say. But he felt the man’s eyes on him and thought better of it.

\--

Tommy’s hands were shaking, but they were wrapped so tightly around the mug of tea he held that he thought his knuckles might be white. Not that he could tell through the haze of tears.

The thought of Tubbo dying was something that terrified Tommy. Of course, respawning was pretty much guaranteed- but that didn’t make death any less of a concern. It still hurt like hell. And the void… Even if players were only there for a few minutes, it was _awful._ Tommy could only describe it as thick, wet darkness, so stifling and intrusive you could feel it seeping into your lungs and clinging to your skin like oil. You would fall through the darkness-down, down, down- never landing. You could see the line between the void and the sky, and as the sky approached, a spark of hope would light in your chest. But as soon as it was close enough to touch you would fall straight through, back into blackness. Again and again and again. If your spawn hadn’t been set in the overworld, this could go on for hours, or even days.

It had happened to Tommy once. During the war, after his and Dream’s duel. Dream wouldn’t have intentionally void-trapped him, but Tommy didn’t know his bed had been destroyed in an explosion during the battle. So when he felt the arrow strike his chest and when his sight had dimmed, he had been totally unprepared.

He had woken after days of falling through the endless void. All at once, he had landed hard on solid ground, but didn’t open his eyes for several minutes for fear of this being just another dream. Then warm, strong arms had wrapped around him and he had heard Wilbur’s voice. Dream had been there too. Though the war wasn’t over, the masked man hadn’t intended for this to happen and so had worked together with Wilbur to get Tommy back.

Tommy shuddered and wiped away more tears that he didn’t know had fallen. Tubbo was alive. He was fine- mostly. Fundy had assured Tommy that the wound was not life-threatening, and Tommy knew he wouldn’t lie.

He took a sip of his tea and wrinkled his nose. It was cold now.

\--

“Why?” Dream spat. “If you have so much power here why didn’t you just kill Wilbur earlier?”

He and Schlatt were just outside the walls. Schlatt had been tasked with escorting Dream home, as the sun was setting and Wilbur insisted that he wouldn’t send Dream back alone.

Schlatt’s lip curled in disgust. “You really have no idea what’s going on, do you?” he replied. “It’d be too easy. He would respawn immediately. I want this to _hurt._ After everything Wilbur did to me, I want to take my time destroying him. I want to see his face when he realizes that everything he loves is gone.”

“Why Tubbo?” Dream demanded. “Why did you decide it was a good idea to hurt a _child_ to prove a point?”

Schlatt dropped the stub of his cigarette and ground it into the dirt with one foot. “Oh that?” he asked innocently. “That was for your benefit. I know you and Tubbo bonded when you helped rebuild L’Manberg. I know you saved his life. He’s a sweet kid, really, and I hate to do it, but he’s one of your weaknesses. One of many.”

Dream scowled. “Don’t hurt him.” Schlatt gave him a sharp glance. “Please,” he added.

Schlatt grinned. “No promises, Dreamy-poo.”

Dream was close to losing it. He wanted to shut Schlatt up, and he knew that he was capable of taking down the man. He could do it so quickly… he could wring the bastard’s neck with his bare hands, could make him pay for what he had done.

Schlatt met his gaze, and Dream knew his face had betrayed him. “Don’t try anything,” the businessman said. “I don’t need to say it again. You know what will happen.”

_Oh, I know._

Dream turned his back and headed towards the SMP. He felt Schlatt’s eyes boring into the back of his skull as they walked, but he refused to look back. He halfway wondered if Schlatt would kill him then and there.

They reached the border of the Dream SMP, and Dream stepped across, glancing at Schlatt wordlessly, daring him to cross the border. Schlatt only lit another cigarette and slipped it between his lips. “See you around.”

Dream didn’t respond, and walked away towards his home.

George was sitting at the kitchen table, sharpening his sword. He looked up when Dream entered. “What happened to you?” he asked, gesturing towards the bloodstained shirt Dream carried on one arm. Wilbur had been gracious enough to loan him a clean one.

“Tubbo was attacked. We don’t know who did it.” Dream sank into a chair, exhausted, and pulled off his mask. “I helped Fundy take care of it.”

“That’s a lot of blood,” George commented, sounding worried.

Dream nodded. “Yeah, it was pretty bad. He should be okay though.”

“You’d think they’d have their mob problem under control by this point. Skeletons in broad daylight?”

Dream shook his head grimly. “Not a skeleton. Wilbur thinks it was a person.”

“Who would target Tubbo?” George wondered aloud, and Dream wished he could say.

“I don’t know, but that’s a low blow,” he replied instead.


	5. friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt makes friends in all the right places. Dream loses friends in all the wrong places.

Weeks passed and Tubbo healed. Within two weeks the teen was on his feet again, though Wilbur refused to let him out of his sight. The president had grilled him several times about the identity of his attacker- had he seen them? Where had they been? Any defining characteristics? But he couldn’t remember anything.

Plans for the election were coming along nicely. Wilbur and Tommy were confident in their chances of success, though they did have a competitor now. Quackity (or Alex, depending on his mood), a newer resident of L’Manberg had eagerly announced his campaign. Wilbur didn’t seem bothered in the least. “Quackity’s no leader,” the president said offhandedly. “The people will realize that.”

Schlatt came eagerly alongside them, taking over much of L’Manberg’s administrative work while Wilbur campaigned. Tubbo took over some of the work as well and found himself in Schlatt’s company quite often. The man was a mystery. He was a habitual drinker, Tubbo knew, and generally a boisterous person. However, Tubbo respected Schlatt for his leadership skills and his eagerness to help Wilbur.

One Friday afternoon, the day before voting was to begin, Tubbo was in Wilbur’s office, sharing ideas for the podium that would serve as the place where they announced the winner. Building was definitely his strong point, and it provided an excuse for him to get some much-needed alone time.

Wilbur scanned the blueprints, and nodded approvingly. “I like the waterfalls. Nice touch. Maybe a set of stairs on the other side? To make exiting easier?”

Tubbo frowned. “Yeah… I want to put it up against the hill though. Wouldn’t make much sense to put more stairs.”

Wilbur nodded. “Makes sense in that case. Looks good!” He scribbled his signature- a formality that nobody really cared about- and slid the paper back to Tubbo. Tubbo grinned and left, heading for the spot he had chosen. He could feel Wilbur’s eyes on him and he sensed the man’s worry as he left. 

His wound had healed already, leaving him with nothing but a scar and a limp. He had adopted an odd, hobbling gait, propelling himself along with his good leg. Fundy urged him to keep exercising his right leg, saying it would become easier to walk on as time went by. Tubbo did his best but his limp wasn’t going away. He knew it was unreasonable to expect it to heal so quickly, but he hated the way people treated him like an invalid.

He set to work and soon had the stone foundation of the podium in place. He stepped back to admire his work, and nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand fell heavily onto his shoulder.

“Bravo, Tubbo!” Schlatt praised, assessing the progress. “Lookin good.”

“Thanks,” Tubbo replied sheepishly. “It’s not nearly finished though.”

“Want some help?”

Tubbo hesitated, then shrugged. “Sure. Company would be nice. You want to start making an oak platform on top?”

“Your wish is my command,” Schlatt replied.

Before long, the two had settled into a rhythm, comfortable silence between them as they worked. Tubbo liked Schlatt, despite the weird vibes he got from the man when he drank. Schlatt was an angry, brooding drunk, and his normally flippant attitude would turn sour and bitter. He had never gotten violent, but Tubbo could tell that he barely restrained himself. When he was sober, though, Schlatt was like an easygoing uncle- who didn’t particularly care about people’s opinions, didn’t care for formalities, and treated Tubbo as an adult rather than a child.

“How’s the leg?” Schlatt asked after a while.

Tubbo grimaced. “S’alright,” he answered. “Wish this limp would go away though.”

Schlatt paused, leaning on his pickaxe, and ruffled Tubbo’s hair. “Don’t worry, kid. Just keep doing whatever crap Fundy told ya to, and it’ll get better. You wanna take a break?”

Tubbo sank down onto one of the chairs Tommy had built, and dropped his pickaxe onto the grass. Schlatt sat nearby and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a deep breath.

“This place is gonna look awesome,” Schlatt commented, scanning the area. “What do you think of Wilbur’s chances?”

“He’ll win,” Tubbo replied lightly. “Everyone wants him in charge. Quackity doesn’t have a chance to be honest.”

Schlatt hummed in acknowledgement. “Tubbo… what would you say if I told you I’m considering running?”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked, surprised.

Schlatt nodded. “Yeah. Nothing against Wilbur, I just have a few ideas that I think would make this place better. It’s not as if it’d be a permanent thing either.”

“Makes sense,” Tubbo answered. “I mean, I’m committed to helping with Wilbur’s campaign… but I hope you do well.”

Schlatt offered him a grateful smile. “Thanks, kid.”

\--

Schlatt announced his campaign a few days later, to everyone’s surprise. Tubbo, though unable to officially endorse Schlatt, helped the man behind the scenes to improve his very weak campaign. Schlatt was enthusiastic, though Tubbo had a feeling his campaign stood no chance with only a week remaining:

The podium was finished, and Tubbo had turned to other projects. Underneath the lake he began digging a tunnel- a staircase downward. He hadn’t said a word about it to anyone else, but he planned to tell Wilbur and Tommy later on. He was planning on building a bunker- a last resort in case things went south after the election. Quackity had become increasingly more aggressive in his verbal abuse of Wilbur’s administration, and it seemed that as time went on, he became more skilled at making the people agree. Quackity had once been just an outspoken challenger- now he was a threat.

 _You want him as your president?”_ Quackity had demanded once, addressing hundreds of L’Manberg citizens . _“He turns away people of different heritage! He’s not the kind and welcoming friend he pretends to be- he’s a tyrant. Get him out!”_

The people had echoed the cry.

Tubbo swung his pickaxe violently against the stone. He was becoming concerned for L’Manberg’s future, wondering what Quackity would do if he were elected. Honestly though, he was more worried about what Quackity would do if he _weren’t_ elected. That was why Tubbo was building the bunker.

After several hours, he had finished digging out a large room under L’Manberg. He had painstakingly gathered resources- food, armor, weapons- and planned on brewing up some potions of swiftness and invisibility as well.

He stepped back and assessed the rows of chests. It would have to do for now.

—

George wasn’t an idiot.

He noticed that Dream stiffened any time Schlatt’s name was mentioned.

He had subtly scanned his friend for sign of injury, but saw none.

He had confronted Dream after his friend had visited L’Manberg, but Dream had claimed he was fine and “just tired. It’s been a long day.” But George knew better. So when the time came for him to inform Dream of Schlatt’s campaign, George was hesitant, to say the least.

So hesitant, in fact, that he waited until the day before the festival to tell Dream the news.

Dream was at his desk in the little capitol building, signing various building approvals. He received so many requests for building permission on a daily basis (mostly from Eret) that they were the majority of his paperwork in a day. When George strode into the office, Dream set the papers aside, his eagerness to be done with it clear. “What’s up?” he asked.

George decided to get it over with. “Schlatt’s running for office in L’Manberg.”

Dream froze, looking up at George with casual concern that only barely masked his fear. “Oh,” Dream replied after a long moment of silence. “Oh.”

George frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Dream shook his head as he stood. “Nothing. Just not sure about the game Wilbur and Tommy are playing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seems risky. I mean, the people were perfectly content before he gave any opportunity for competition. Now he’s opening it up and literally anyone can run.”

“I suppose that’s true,” George replied. “But you’re not concerned about just anyone. You’re worried about Schlatt.”

Dream avoided his gaze. “What makes you think that?”

George felt frustration well up in his chest, and slammed a palm down on the desk. Dream’s head snapped up to glare at him, but George met his friend’s gaze. “Stop lying to me, Dream,” George spat. “What the hell is going on? Every time Schlatt’s name is mentioned you act all…” he shook his head. “I don’t know. This has been going on for months, and I want to know why.”

Dream stood up. “I…” he faltered. “I’m sorry George. I wish…” he shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He walked past George, headed towards the door.

George grabbed Dream by the sleeve. He felt his friend tense, and George briefly considered the fact that Dream could easily deck him and simply leave. But Dream only looked pleadingly at him. “George, do you trust me? Because I swear I’m doing this to protect you.”

George hesitated. “You can protect me just fine. If I stick with you, I know I’ll be perfectly safe.”

Dream sighed heavily and turned back towards his desk. “Fine,” he relented. “But check the windows. Make sure we’re completely alone.”

George crossed the room, poking his head out the window to make sure the area was clear. Then he closed and locked both windows before turning to speak to his friend.

But Dream was gone, slipped out the door and into the night.


	6. celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The festival. Also Quackity!

The Dream SMP was lit brightly despite the hour. In the community house, nearly the entire server was gathered- the L’Manbergians blending easily with their former countrymen as they greeted one another happily. Looking at the group of people, Dream smiled contentedly. If only for a moment, all was well.

He caught George’s eye for a moment and looked quickly at the floor. He had screwed up big time. He had avoided speaking to George since their interaction the night before, but he knew from George’s expression that he would not be forgiven anytime soon.

“Why so glum?”

Dream jumped, startled. The person standing in front of him was not familiar- far shorter than Dream himself and clad in a hoodie, jeans, and a beanie that covered all but a few locks of dark hair. He looked young- probably not much older than Tubbo.

“Quackity,” the kid said, seeming to realize that Dream didn’t recognize him. He stuck a hand out and Dream shook it. Dream registered the name as one of Wilbur’s competitors.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he replied. “I’m Dream.”

“I know,” Quackity replied. “Sorry for sneaking up on you like that.”

“No worries,” Dream said sheepishly. He liked this kid. “I wasn’t paying attention.” He hesitated, realizing he had to say something. “So you’re running against Wilbur, huh?”

“Yeah.” Quackity took a sip of his drink. “Nothing against him, of course. I just think…” he paused. “I have some ideas that I think could make L’Manberg better.” Something was odd about the way he spoke, Dream thought. Almost… rehearsed.

“Understandable,” Dream replied, as though he hadn’t heard about the defamation Quackity was guilty of against Wilbur.

Speaking of which- here was Wilbur now, striding towards the pair and looking almost regal in his military uniform.

“Quackity,” Wilbur called with a comfortable familiarity that struck Dream as somewhat fake. “Not trying to coerce votes out of people, are we? He’s not from L’Manberg, you should know that.”

“I know,” Quackity answered. “I’m just being friendly.” He excused himself, face flushed, and left.

Wilbur came to stand beside Dream. “Why so glum?” he asked.

Dream turned and offered Wilbur a smile. “Just thinking,” he lied. “What do you think of the party?”

Wilbur gazed at the group. “It’s good to see them all together again.”

Dream nodded in agreement. “Tommy and Tubbo used to hang out with Sap, George and I a lot. They’re like brothers. It’s good to see them together.”

Wilbur’s expression turned sad. “I wish…” he trailed off. “I—never mind.”

“That none of this had ever happened?” Dream finished. “Yeah, me too.”

They stood in slightly awkward silence for a moment, before Wilbur gripped Dream’s shoulder amicably. “Can I have a word with you?” the Brit asked quietly. Dream nodded and followed Wilbur to the roof, grabbing a glass of punch as he did so.

“What’s up?” Dream asked, trying to smother the worry he felt.

Wilbur leaned against the railing. “I feel like I may have made a mistake, Dream.”

“What do you mean?” Did he know about Schlatt?

“The election,” Wilbur elaborated. “You tried to warn me, didn’t you?”

Dream shrugged. “I mean, you’re the most popular by far. It was a risky move, but I think it’ll be alright.”

Wilbur sighed heavily, and there was silence between them for a moment. Then, “are we friends, Dream?”

“Yeah,” Dream answered immediately. “Why?”

“I’ve discovered something about myself… something that scares me a little I guess.”

Dream’s concern grew. “What’s that?”

“You know how they say power corrupts? I don’t know, it just feels like—” Wilbur stopped, clearly frustrated. “What if that happens to me? What if it’s already happening? The thought of not being president of L’Manberg just _hurts_ , Dream. I feel like I’m the only one who can protect her. I don’t want to lose her.”

Dream hesitated, thinking over what he wanted to say. “That doesn’t sound like corruption to me. That sounds like a president who loves his country.”

Wilbur met his eyes, and Dream could see a glint of fear. “But what if I get voted out?” he asked softly. “I know I’ll feel betrayed and hurt. I’ll feel like they’ve done something wrong.”

“I get it,” Dream replied quietly. “I mean, my position isn’t really at risk, but I’ve seen power corrupt before. It’s corrupted _me_ before.” He met Wilbur’s eyes and knew that they both remembered that occasion. “But you’re a good man, Wilbur. Remember what you love.”

Wilbur fell silent, then nodded. “I can do that.”

Dream looked over his shoulder, making sure the rooftop was clear. It was empty except for the two of them. “You have my loyalty,” he swore. “No matter what happens with this election, I’m your ally. Not L’Manberg’s.”

Wilbur forced a smile. “Thank you.”

Dream paused, considering. They were alone. Maybe, just maybe, he could…

“Wilbur, how do you know Schlatt?” he asked impulsively.

Wilbur seemed taken aback. “We met years ago,” he said. “We did loads of challenges and events together. I was garbage at it, but he always managed to win.”

Dream opened his mouth to speak, then felt a weight on his shoulders.

“What’s up, boys?” Schlatt interjected, arm slung carelessly over Dream’s shoulders. Dream quickly schooled his scowl into a neutral expression, but Wilbur must have seen. He frowned slightly but didn’t inquire.

“Schlatt,” Dream acknowledged, barely able to restrain himself from pulling away and drop-kicking Schlatt off the balcony. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah,” Schlatt answered and hiccupped. He held a drink in his hand, and Dream smelled whiskey on the man’s breath. “Y’know, if I hadn’t heard about the war between you two, I would have guessed Manberg and the Dream SMP had been friends for years.”

“L’Manberg,” Wilbur corrected.

Dream broke the awkward silence that followed. “Guess we’re doing something right, then!” he replied to Schlatt. “Right, Wilbur?”

The Brit chuckled. “If I’d have known you could throw a party like this, I’d have allied with you a lot sooner.”

Schlatt released his grip on Dream and slapped the SMP’s leader on the back. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to your conversation. Stay out of trouble now.” 

As the man walked away, Dream released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Wilbur eyed him worriedly. “Schlatt tends to be a bit much for people,” the president said almost apologetically. “He also gets a bit too physical when he’s drunk. Sorry about that.”

Dream took a long drink of his long-forgotten punch. “It’s- it’s not a problem. Just not too fond of the smell of whiskey I guess.”

Wilbur smiled sympathetically. “Understandable. I hate it too. Just don’t have the heart to tell him.”

Dream raised his glass to his lips again and faltered as a wave of dizziness crashed over him. When had his head started hurting? Dream pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, wiping away beads of sweat. The chilly rooftop suddenly seemed cramped and hot.

“I’m going to get some water,” he said suddenly, eager to get off the roof and away from the lingering smell of alcohol.

Wilbur nodded in understanding. “I’ll come with you.”

They descended the stairs into the main room, and Dream felt sweat trickle down his temple. The noise, the light- it was all too much. His stomach flipped as he finally grabbed a water bottle, and it took all his self control not to throw up right there. Suddenly he realized. The punch. He had been fine until he had taken a drink of the stupid punch.

“Dream? You alright?” asked Wilbur, and Dream shook his head.

“Something… in the punch,” he gasped. “I need to get out of here.” He lurched towards the door and stepped outside, before dizziness overcame him again. The world turned sideways, and he heard Wilbur yell his name. Glass shattered, and his head slammed into something solid.

He knew no more.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe sorryyyyyy


	7. discretion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur realizes something is afoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the wait guys. School has been getting me down lately (im a freshman in college) and I haven't had time or energy for much of anything. I hope you enjoy, this is a bit of a filler chapter but I should have the next one up soon.

The rest of the evening was a blur. Wilbur called for help and soon Dream was bustled away to Eret’s castle. The man gave Dream a healing potion before spending an hour trying to find what had caused the sudden illness. Eventually, Eret traced the source back to an extremely toxic blend of spider eyes, pufferfish and harming potions. It did its job well- to the point that a simple potion of healing or regeneration couldn’t just undo the damage.

“I can give him the potions, but the illness needs to run its course. He’ll likely be like this for a few days,” Eret said apologetically, gesturing to Dream’s prone form. The SMP’s leader was deathly pale, and his breath sounded shallow. His cape and mask were gone, and he was covered in blankets up to his chin. Overall, Wilbur thought, Dream looked quite small and nothing like the warrior they all knew he was.

George was nowhere to be found, and Wilbur wondered what could have possibly happened between the two to keep George away at a time like this. He had noticed them avoiding one another, but surely something as bad as one of them getting poisoned would bring them back together.

“A few days, you say?” Wilbur asked Eret. If so, Dream would probably miss the election. Little good his loyalty would do if he wasn’t present at such a critical event.

Eret nodded. “there’s always a chance that it could be sooner,” he said. “But I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

Punz thanked him. “Do you think it’s safe to move him?”

Eret grimaced. “Probably not just yet. But I don’t mind him staying. And anyone else can stay if they wish.” He directed this mostly to the Dream SMP members, Sapnap, Karl and Punz, though Wilbur wondered if he could get away with staying as well.

Wilbur straightened and eyed the members of the Dream SMP. “I want to find out who did this,” he swore.

“How do we know it wasn’t you who poisoned him in the first place?” demanded Sapnap hotly. “Why should we trust you?” There were murmurs of agreement.

Eret lifted a hand. “Wilbur was the one who brought Dream to me,” he defended calmly. “Why would he do that if he wanted him dead?”

Wilbur waited for an objection. None came.

“Someone at the party slipped something into his drink. We need to find out who,” Sapnap said grudgingly. “But who has an agenda against Dream?”

“I mean, he’s a political leader,” Eret replied. “It’s not unheard of for assassination attempts to be made against leaders. Wilbur, you were with him for quite a bit, did you see anything suspicious?”

“I… don’t want to accuse people without being sure,” Wilbur said hesitantly, remembering Quackity’s pathetic attempts at befriending Dream, and the creepy way he and Schlatt had acted towards the SMP leader. Surely they wouldn’t go as far as attempted murder, though.

“What is it?” Eret asked.

Wilbur bit his tongue and shook his head. “It’s nothing. I’ll look into it more.”

It was decided that Sapnap would stay with Dream, and Wilbur left Eret’s castle. Trudging back to L’Manberg, he was greeted by Tommy at the gates.

“Where the hell have you been?” the blond demanded.

Wilbur wearily dropped a hand on the boy’s shoulder and kept walking. “Someone tried to murder Dream.”

“Big D?!” Tommy nearly shrieked, and Wilbur winced, pinching the bridge of his nose as his head throbbed with pain.

“Yes,” Wilbur snapped. “Tommy, I think… come with me.”

Tommy fell silent and followed as Wilbur strode towards the White House. In the front office, Tubbo sat with a stack of papers in front of him. As the pair entered the building, he looked up worriedly. “What-“ he began, and Wilbur beckoned to him. “We need to talk.”

Wilbur led them to the top floor, to his own office and waved them inside before shutting the door and locking it.

“What’s going on?” Tubbo asked in a small voice.

Wilbur turned, leaning heavily backward against the door. “At the party, someone poisoned Dream’s drink.”

Tubbo’s eyes widened in horror. “Really?” he asked. “Why would they—”

“I don’t know,” Wilbur replied, burying his face in his hands. “I was with him almost the entire time, and only two people were close enough to him to spike his drink. Other than me, that is. Quackity and Schlatt.”

“Well then, it’s Quackity,” Tommy said, as though it was obvious.

“I’m not so sure,” Wilbur replied. “Schlatt was acting strangely. Saying creepy things and getting really physical, especially with Dream.”

Tommy made a noise of disgust.

“Isn’t that how Schlatt always acts, though?” Tubbo inquired. “He just acts like that when he’s drunk.”

Wilbur nodded. “True, but I have a feeling this is more serious than that. Dream seemed really nervous around him. I think… Schlatt might not be who we think he is.”

“What do we do, then?” Tubbo asked in a small voice.

“I… don’t know,” Wilbur replied. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but we don’t have a lot of time. I think… for now, we wait. The last night of the campaign is tomorrow, and if we hear anything suspicious then, we can confront him publicly.”

“I didn’t think Schlatt was a bad guy,” Tommy said shakily. “He always seemed friendly…”

“He’s always seemed friendly,” Wilbur agreed. “But he’s screwed me over in the past. He can do it again. Stay away from him, both of you. I don’t want you getting hurt. If this was him, he’s capable of far more than getting drunk.”

“Speaking of which,” Tubbo replied, “I have something to show you. I built it just in case things go south.”

\--

“Holy hell, Tubbo!” Tommy exclaimed.

“This is- this is insane,” Wilbur commented in awe, gazing at the diamond armor-stands, the rows of chests, and the god apples in item frames on the walls.

“If things go wrong, there should be enough supplies here to live on for a bit,” Tubbo said hesitantly. “And there’s a tunnel that leads far away from L’Manberg.”

“Thank you, Tubbo,” Wilbur replied. “This could make a huge difference.”


End file.
